Adrenaline spikes through my nerves, which cushioned most of the pain I should've felt from the impact.

There's no time to think. As soon as the dark van begins honking again, which is more frantic this time, I clamber to my feet as fast as my racing heart, and make my way along the pavement with an awkward gait. Pangs of pain crawls upon my thigh and the whole of my back.

But I know I should carry on nevertheless.

Then the hardest part of panicky escape droops in—where I should go. There have been no luxury of space in this city nor anywhere else in Pelnora since the time of my birth. No parks, no farms, no forests, nor any other vacant spaces between houses except for a few alleys.

Whichever street I choose, I know I'll only come through a whole flanking rows of cramped up houses or shanties. In need for better words, there's no escape.

Unless I break in one of these towering homes.

"Kiera, wait for me!" Oliver calls out as he tries making his way down from the gnarls of spire.

"No don't! Don't go down!" I yell without sparing him a glance, picking up speed.

If the van follows me, which I think is likely since I'm the only one who fall from the tree, then that means there's a high chance that it is only me whom they've spotted. That means they'll only be chasing me, not Oliver, and Oliver can meet up with me once I am able to escape, but if he'll risk himself by following behind, I'm afraid we'll both end up on our graves.

"But Kiera, we can't split up!" he protests as he carries forth. I think this is the time to split up.

"Dammit, Oliver! Just do the damn thing I said!" I retort as I bolt away much faster now. This time, Oliver turns quiet. As I get convinced that he's opted not to follow me, I decide to do the only thing that I know would save me . . . break in houses. There's nowhere else to go, and this van is certainly faster than me; I'm like a mouse being chased down by a feral cat.

The roar of the van gets louder as it maneuvers through the pavement.

If I can run as fast as my heart, I would've already trekked the whole of Pelnora. From what I can remember before the dump truck could make it along the streets, there are only two of them: the truck driver, and the van driver. Rest are probably left for the detonation, so that means none of them can possibly shoot me while they're driving and giving chase at the same time.

But they can ram me along the road.

I dare spare a glance behind as I barrel through the slippery pavement, and I realize the driver really has the urge to run over me as he speeds up.

At this rate, I need drastic countermeasures.

As soon as the marble stairs of the portico ahead reaches my sight, I force an extra spurt of speed; my nerves pumping blood into acid, nevertheless I ignore the pain. Sheer adrenaline gives me pair of wings as it takes over my body. I'm just a measly woman working my life at a grocery store, and I'm not a super human of any sorts. This van would certainly batter over my skinny body any moment now. 

The plant boxes perched along the pavement between me and the van are the only reason I'm still alive, for it's the only thing that slows and blocks my chaser down.

The sudden vibration from my slacks pocket turns my attention. Since I left my phone together with my bag at the grocery store, there could only be one thing behind the vibrations—Oliver's security measure.

I hastily fish the small device form my pocket. The red button subtly glows as a small metal pad protrudes from the side, it's a feature I've never laid eyes on before, and static starts to buzz from it.

"Kiera, can you hear me?!" Oliver's voice comes out choppy amidst the static, and something instantly churns within me, albeit I couldn't quite place if it is relief or worry or both.

"Yes, where are you?!" I pipe back, and my ragged breath trips my voice.

"From the tree. Kiera, I know you can see the portico ahead from you, right?" he mutters.

"Yes!" I barely say as I slowly become breathless.

"Okay, I want you to go there, don't put the device down, and don't look back! The van is getting closer and the last plant box that will slow it down are dozen meters away from the portico, so I want you to brace yourself, okay? You'll have to go faster after the last plant box," Oliver blabbers.

I don't even have enough breaths to respond.

As I feel the van gets into closer point with me, I can't help but shriek. Just a few more spurts of speed and I'm going to reach the marble stairs.

I can do this, I think.

I just have to follow Oliver's commands. Acid  pumps within my nerves as exhaustion swallows every effort I exert. I struggle not to spare a look behind. I can't let my panic put me closer to danger, nor can I let any from the authorities recognize my face.

"Okay you're getting closer, Kiera," Oliver adds.

Once I get past the last plant box, there's no doubt the van would abruptly maneuver to my direction. I know it's going to be fast. So I gravely need to make myself quick.

It's to die or live.

There comes another honk, but, this time, the van stops following suit from behind, and it goes far ahead of me in a burst of speed.

"Oh god, Kiera, watch the hell out it's a dang ambush!" Oliver yells from the static.

His words slowly dawn on me as the van edges for the clear pavement and slowly blocks my path ahead.

"Kiera, stop! Come back!" Oliver shouts apprehensively.

If I come back the way I came, I'll only let the van driver buy some time to prep his rifle up and get myself shot. It's too risky to back out now.

"No! I can't!" I crow back as I hold the small metal box closer to my face.

My hope runs thinner as the van makes it halfway through the pavement, and I can't let it stop. I mustn't give the driver the chance to stalk out and shoot me instead. So before it could even skid into halt, I decide to take the risk.

With a racing heart, I bolt for the thoroughfare and make my way straight to the other side of the road; each footstep seems to gong heavily back to my ears as though to yell that my decision is downright stupid.

Oliver's panicked voice crackles out from the device.

"God, Kiera, you're losing your dang self!"

For the record, I think I am.

"I know what I'm doing!" I snap back, and it's a lie; all I know is that this might give me a chance of escape without getting shot.

"Stop it, Keira! You're onl—" I cut off Oliver as I stash the box back in my slacks pocket. Sorry, Oliver.

Luckily, my plan starts to work.

The van instantly pulls off from the pavement, and maneuvers back to the road. This time, it's in pursuit of me. My head panics at every possibility. There can be a whole spectrum of ways for my plan to go wrong, yet equally as many to go as I will.

The driver is going to ram me along the road, well, not if I make it to the nearest plant box first before he has the chance. My feet starts to numb and I want it so much to scream as I hear the van's roaring engine speed closer to me, but my ragged breath stops my attempts to shout. I don't know how near behind me it is already, and I couldn't dare spare a glance.

Everything has to be quick. As the van honks, I bolt faster for the nearest plant box. Fear roils within my chest as I haul myself up the concrete ledge, and I'm just in time. The van veers out of control in a deafening screech, but didn't make it as it collides with the concrete edge of the plant box.

The driver mustn't have been wearing his seat belt, for he bursts out and shatters the windshield, and he nearly take clutch of my legs as I land atop the van when I throw myself forward.

I keep rolling towards the back of the vehicle, then I plummet down for the hard bitumen.

I bend my legs as I fall down, barely feeling the explosion of pain that has bloomed through my battered muscles, and I plant both my shaking palms on the asphalt to steady myself, locks of my hair veiling my face.

I right myself up in a split second, I fling back a heft of my hair, and I quickly dash back to the other side of the road where I've been to moments ago. A victorious grin flickers at my lips.

Fishing out the small box from my pocket, I exclaim, "I made it!" I let out a breath of relief.

"You're insane! You could've gotten yourself killed!" Oliver chastises, but I don't mind anyway.

"Okay, kiera, now this is going to be a chase on foot, please don't do anything stupid now," he adds.

"What?" I ask.

As I look back behind me, fear and disbelief sends back the wave of adrenaline.

How can the driver still be conscious?

The van driver who've been thrown out and who shattered his own windshield with his own damn head now stalks behind me in one piece. There are no traces of bruise nor graze, and a rifle's clasped within his fist. A pair of stone cold eyes dart at me.

I shriek.

"Technically, you've only made things worse," Oliver crackles.

"How can that monster be alive?!" Right now, I'm beyond dumbfounded.

"I don't know, protective gears?" Oliver suggests.

"The thing's not even wearing a helmet for merlin's sake! His windshield's shattered! The barrage should've costed him his head!" I spit.

Whatever this man has on his sleeves, I certainly find it eerie.

"Look, I don't know anything about what the authorities has gotten up for themselves, but they are dangerous, Kiera, you know what I mean. Now head on for the portico!" he commands.

My heart jumps up to my throat as a gunshot goes off. It didn't come from behind me, but rather the shot comes somewhere from my left, and it narrowly misses my face as a bullet zooms past me.

"Kiera, watch out! Truck driver at nine o'clock!" Oliver warns.

Far ahead to my left lies the dump truck we've been to earlier. I guess its bastard driver has decided to help his comrade. Now I'm in utter stalemate.

"Hey! Stop right there!" The van driver howls from behind me.

With a racing heart, I dash through the thoroughfare as fast as I could and quickly makes it back to the pavement.

"Kiera, can you see the number plate of the house?" Oliver asks as I inch closer to the portico.

"35. Why?"

"Just go there, I'll explain later! Go! Now!" Oliver barks.

And with that, I make my way through the marble stairs, taking two steps at a time.

I shriek as another bullet rams the stair handle, dissipating it into jagged shards. Dust and dirt billows on its wake, and it almost trip me from my tracks.

Using my arm as support, I shove at the door, and it quickly wedges open, sending me toppling inside.

I nearly collide with a dress-clad woman who shrieks in shock at the sight of me. A yellow apron hangs askew from her hunched shoulders, and her wavy locks dangle on her face. As she gapes at me, her jaw drops open as though seeing a human for the first time.

"Who—" The woman can't even complete her question as she gapes at me in bafflement; I don't have the time to care.

I slam the door shut and scan the small living room for anything. As my eyes land at a wardrobe beside me, I quickly bolt for it and push it to block the door.

"What are you—who?" she stammers, her eyes wide and startled.

I guess I can't blame her for that.

A baby, probably around two and a half years of age encroaches from a walker, his lips stained in red sauce, and at the moment he sees me, he lifts a finger to point it at me.

"Oh my god!" The woman shrieks as she hurriedly covers her baby's eyes, and that is when I suddenly realize how I look like a walking corpse with my bloodied uniform. Then Oliver's voice crackles again from the metal box. I hold it closer to my face.

"You see the stairs?" he buzzes.

The staircase is parallel to the walls, and it ascends straight to the second floor.

"Yeah."

"Go there, now!" Oliver yells.

"Who—who are you?" The woman finally finishes her question.

I look at her guiltily. 

"I'm so sorry." It's the only thing I could say as I quickly take the stairs three steps at a time.

"Hey!" she hollers, but I ignore her.

I've never been so thankful with my oversized slacks than I am now, because if I'd been wearing those fad skinny ones, I'd doubt it if I can make it this far without tangling my own restrained feet.

A closed door meets me at the top of the stairs, and I take no second thoughts as I barge through. Every duplex houses in Creed Holme are narrower than the usual standard, and that's just about right as I stand in a compact corridor flanked with doors.

"I'm here!" I shout at the metal box, shaking angrily against my trembling fist.

"Okay, I want you to check each rooms, look for their walls and find the one with a slight bulging across the surface," Oliver blabbers, his voice turning husky amidst the static.

"Alright, got it," I say.

The loud thuds and the shriek of the woman from below reaches my ears, and it forces a wave of panic. I just hope the wardrobe I use is sturdy enough to buy me some more time.

The first room is small, and the only thing that catches my attention is the crib perched at the middle, and so I hurriedly close it and proceed to the next door. There are only two rooms up here so I'm quite certain this room has the wall Oliver has described.

As I burst in, I quickly close the door and peg it lock behind. A bed for two, a table lamp, and a couple of wooden chair stares back at me. This has to be the woman's bedroom. I proceed to the peculiar portion of the wall where the bulges seem obvious, then the static from the metal box grows louder.

"Oliver, I saw the bulges, what now?" I say.

"Quick! What does it says?" he prods.

"What?" I snap.

"The letters, what does it read?" he shots back, but the only thing I can see are the bulges and nothing more.

No letters.

"What are you talking about? Oliver, there are no letters, just the freaking white wall!" I respond apprehensively in a bemused tone.

"Can you at least feel the letters on the surface, please?" he says exasperatedly.

Albeit I really have no idea what he's up to, I hurriedly comply.

"Okay, hear me out," I say as I place my hand on the end of the bulge.

Then as I skim my fingers along the surface, the bulges do form letters. "Okay, the first letter is V. Then I—V—A—T."

The bulge lowers.

"I guess it's the first word, but it doesn't make sense," I say. Then Oliver crackles out.

"That's it! Continue it, Kiera! What are the other letters?" Oliver prods.

I continue to slide my fingers.

"V—O—X," I mutter as the bulges lower again. It's the second word, then I continue to skim. "P—O—P—U—L—I." I reach the end of the bulge, yet it still doesn't make sense to me.

"Vivat Vox populi. Are these jumbled letters?" I ask over the metal box.

"No. It's latin, which means 'long live the voice of the people', it's a kind of protest. Every houses constructed in the early years of The Shearing has that bulges on the wall, but ever since the people surrendered in the government's policies, they have forgotten about it," Oliver mutters, yet it still doesn't make sense to me at all.

"You want me to protest?" I say.

"No. I want you to smash that part of the wall as hard as you can," he says.

"What? why?" I ask, then he yells.

"Just do it, Kiera!"

Catching the urgency, I reach for a wooden chair, I heft it, and I barge it against the wall. The chair's legs break off in a crunch, then the whole portion of the wall surrenders and crumbles off. Dust billows all throughout the room. Grayish green debris strew around, and I realize just why the wall did crumble so easily—it's made of slate.

"You've just made a passage to the next house!" Oliver crackles.

"Why were the houses built at that time has walls like this?" I ask.

"Escape routes, people at that time helps each other escape when hunted. Okay, I'm going to sign off now, Kiera. Meet me at home. But if you arrive there first, just wait for me," Oliver says.

"Got it," I say after a short pause. Albeit deep within, I still want Oliver to guide me along the way.

"Please be careful," Oliver says as his voice trails off.

"I will." And with that, the buzzes go off.

Now it's only me.

The sound of furnitures turns my attention, then my heart races faster. I dash for the passage and into the room of the next house. As I get out of the next room, there is no more corridor. Instead, a whole wall faces me, and it has the same bulge across the middle part.

A gunshot blares from the previous house.

My adrenaline kicks in. If I keep on breaking passages along the walls, I'm sure the bastards would figure out my plan, for they've been living longer than me, and so I decide to just bolt for the stairs.

Then another gunshot goes off, and this time it comes from downstairs.

They've figured out.

If each of the two houses has one of the drivers earlier, then there's no way for me to go. My thoughts scatter as the blare from the gunshots abate and gets replaced by scampering footsteps. Heat erupts across my skin.

There's no way to go.

I hold out the small metal box, but there's no more buzzing sounds.

"Oliver, help!" I shriek.

No answer.

"Please, Oliver! I beg you!" I holler.

I can hardly think straight, then the large window catches my attention. Albeit rigged with grills, there's an enough space for my skinny body to squeeze through. I guess I have no choice.

Barely thinking straight, I bolt for the window. Pulling the glass open, I clasp on the metal grills, dried blood mingling with my sweat. Then with a bounce, I heft myself and squeeze through the narrow space in between grills and successfully make it outside, albeit I dare not to spare a glance down below. I swivel carefully so I'm facing the outside wall, and I swallow my breath as I carefully clamp my hands on the narrow gaps across the wall. My fingers tremble, and my feet rest upon a ledge that connects the house to the lower roof of another house on its left side.

As I get convinced, I pull the window glasses shut and clasp my free right hand on a gutter above my head. Then I carefully inch closer to the lower roof of the other house on my left. White noise strains my ear, and my heart hammers my chest.

As I get a hold of the lower roof, I carefully haul myself up one foot at a time.

The telltale sound of crunching door reaches my ears, so I slowly crawl forward along the roof I'm currently on, which angles upward. As I reach the sturdy ridge, I crawl towards the outer side wall of the house from where I escaped, and use it to right myself up.

I reach up to the wall and to the roof above it, then with a jump, I lift myself up. I plant both the rubber sole of my shoes against the wall to keep me still, while I use both my hands to fasten myself and reach upward.

As I reach up, I clasp my hand on the roof and haul one foot at a time ti'll I finally make it on the rooftop of the house from which I escaped.

There, as all the exhaustion and adrenaline gradually subsides, my whole body slacks in defeat, and I just lie limply on the flat roof. I weakly fish the metal box from my slacks pocket, but there's only silence.

"Oliver, I made it," I weakly whisper as I hold the box before my lips, albeit I know there will be no answer at all.

My body shudders from the cold gusts, and I feel utterly battered and relieved at the same time.

For a brief moment, I just focus my eyes at the swathes of dark grey clouds across the dull sky. My heart finally slows down.

"Where the hell did it go?!" Roars a muffled voice, coming out from the window below.

The sound quickly hits me, and I know I mustn't move a muscle because I'm lying just above them.

That's when a gunshot goes off. Then the roof beside me bursts and forms a punctured hole as a bullet zooms out. I nearly sheiek, and I clamp my palms tightly against my pressed lips to suppress my scream.

Never mind the stains of blood. If they find out I'm here, then it's my own blood that'll next coat my hands.

I don't know what to do anymore. Is this how being a criminal feels like? Is it really this tiring? What will Oakley do now? What'll happen to me? To Oliver? Every question that clogs my mind mangles my emotions in the worst ways possible.

I just want everything normal again.

As silence slowly reigns back, I force my eyes close.

Slate: A metamorphic rock easily split into smooth, flat pieces.
Abate: to become less intense.

Thoughts? What do you think will happen next? :) It's really kind of tough for Byrne right now. Her life's changes are an abrupt twist and now she finds herself railroaded. Poor Byrne/Kiera.
Anyway guys new characters soon!

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